


my heart is black and my body is blue

by ever_neutral



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-11
Updated: 2011-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 22:49:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/182144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_neutral/pseuds/ever_neutral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is an exception to her.</p><p>[<i>Habeas Corpses</i>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	my heart is black and my body is blue

Lilah Morgan is used to unsavoury truths. She makes her living off them. There is no all-caring maker; there is nothing that will last but evil; there are very few good women on this Earth, even fewer good men. 

Wesley wants to be one of those few, she knows -- wants nothing more than to be  _exceptional_ , to anyone or everyone. There is nothing about that that’s exceptional in the least, but -- 

He is an exception to her. She knows this is a defeat –- she knows this in her bones, in the depths of the heart she doesn’t use anymore (it’s only there for necessity, but oh, Wesley  _is necessary_ ). There is no benefit to the surge of relief that knocks her down at the sight of him, blessedly in one piece, after the rain of fire –- no profit to be gained from something that doesn’t affect  _her_  in the least. What does she care if he’s dead or alive? She’ll survive, with him or without, and he’ll –-

He’ll survive without her.

She knows this. An unsavoury truth that benefits her… not at all. 

(There’s nothing to take advantage of here. 

 _Except you._ )

She knew this perhaps from the start -- but she knew it especially that night when she watched those flames falling from the sky, threatening to consume everything, and she was afraid they might succeed. She was Lilah Morgan, and she was afraid. 

The thought of herself as a casualty is interesting. The idea of being tossed away like a severed limb -- appropriately morbid and loathsome, the kind of business she has a vested interest in, usually. Her stomach isn’t turned by much. 

But it’s not just an idea anymore. 

The scene is brief. He is businesslike. It’s a clean cut, precise, no mess, no fuss. She only pushes back a little, but –-  _devil bless him_  –- he stops her before it gets  _embarrassing_. 

She knew he knew how to be cruel. It’s what made him… worth being interested in. She can admit that much.

She slams his door behind her. There’s a salty tang at the back of her throat when she gets back to the office, but nothing a good throat-clearing doesn’t cure. She swallows whatever doubts and unseemly longing that may be rudely lodged in her throat with it. She does not choke.

The world is still here. Evil still reigns, the good guys still insist on challenging it, and she still wears black. Nothing’s changed, really. 

( _Except her._ ) 

She has lost nothing. Nothing that’s worth losing  _everything she already has_  to get back, anyway.

(But shhhh. Lilah Morgan doesn’t compromise. At least, not on her off hours.)


End file.
